


rough ride

by orphan_account



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Motion Sickness, Vomiting, Whump, literally just Wyatt getting sick I had a Need
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9144478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Trips in the Lifeboat are never easy, but some are tougher than others.





	

Travelling in the Lifeboat is always rough. Wyatt’s been through countless military operations; he’s jumped out of planes, driven in covered jeeps that shake like they’ve been caught in a earthquake -- hell, he was _in_ an earthquake once, and made it out to tell the tale. Somehow, nothing compares to jumping through time in a less-than-stable metal ball that resembles a space ship more than a time machine. The sense of unbelonging -- or being everywhere and nowhere at once, of being pulled forcibly through the fabric of space and time -- is like nothing he’s ever known before.

He told himself after the first time that it would get better with experience, and it has -- for the most part. (He also tells himself, every time, that this will be the last time he makes the trip. He’s proven himself wrong there.)

There are things that haven’t changed, no matter how many times he jumps through time. The sensation, for a split-second, of his insides being his outsides -- the same. The spaghetti-legged dizziness when he steps out of the ship -- still there. The awful feeling of his stomach churning, not quite enough to send bile up his throat but close enough -- definitely there.

Wyatt knows how to power through discomfort, and he can endure a lot. Compared to catching a bullet in the gut, the Lifeboat’s effects are decent.

He thinks, when it comes down to it, it has something to do with liquor. Alcohol doesn’t handle the time-and-space trip kindly. The first time he’s made the jump he’d been buzzed, and had come dangerously close to seeing his dinner come back up.

When he got the call tonight, he was already five-sixths of the way through a case of beer. Beer never hits him hard, and he has a strong tolerance. When he gets to Mason Industries he feels suitable clearheaded, but the look Lucy gives him lets him know that he doesn’t smell like it. Flynn has travelled back to March 3, 1901 -- the day before President McKinley’s assassination. Lucy speculates that he’s trying to keep McKinley from dying to prevent Theodore Roosevelt’s presidency; and, well, that sounds just about as plausible to Wyatt as anything else Flynn’s done.

Rufus is ready and waiting when Wyatt and Lucy buckle themselves into the Lifeboat. Already, Wyatt can feel his stomach roiling in anticipation for the journey. He remembers the last time alcohol and time travel mixed, but he tells himself that this won’t come close to that level of unpleasantness. That had been his first time jumping; he’s far more experienced now.

“You smell like a bar during happy hour,” is the first thing Rufus says to him, glancing back at him with disapproval that Wyatt really does not need. He rolls his eyes in reply as he straps himself in.

“Have you ever _been_ to happy hour?”

He doesn't give Rufus the chance to answer, because he's already strapping himself in. Lucy is eyeing Wyatt with caution, like she expects something to happen but isn't sure what. Wyatt is tempted to roll his eyes at her. He isn't a lightweight by any means; he can handle his liquor, and he's far from drunk. Depending on how long this mission will take, he'll be sobered up by morning without even a headache to remind him of the night before.

“Relax,” he mutters to her, offering what he hopes is a reassuring half-smile. “I'm fine.”

“I know,” Lucy replies, and wipes the skepticism off her face. Even if she's lying, Wyatt appreciates it.

Everything seems fine until the point that the Lifeboat actually takes off. It's a familiar sensation by now; the revving machinery all around him, he vibrations that shoot through his body, the feeling of being rocketed through time without a single thing to grab onto. It only lasts a few seconds, but those few seconds are all it takes for Wyatt’s body to throw itself into a rage.

By the time they land, he can feel that all the blood has drained from his face. He stares straight ahead, wide-eyed, without daring to move a muscle. As gravity reorientation itself in the cabin, he feels the contents of his stomach suddenly grow heavy.

Rufus is the first one out of his seat, and he's already pushing the door open by the time Lucy gets herself unbuckled. The Lifeboat opens out into an empty field, shadowed by night. Wyatt just has the presence of mind to recognize that it's a very good thing they've landed here, because he wouldn't to do something like lose his dinner all over a historical landmark.

Rufus lands hard, dirt crunching under his shoes. By the time Lucy had pulled herself out. Wyatt’s hands are fumbling with the buckle. He gets himself unstrapped and immediately falls forward, head reeling like he's just finished a ride on one of those awful carnival rides his brother would force him on as a kid. Everything is spinning; the world is a nauseating blur of color and shadow. He can taste liquor in the back of his throat.

“Whoa. Wyatt? You okay there?”

Wyatt doesn't dare open his mouth. Though he's not sure he can walk on his own, he stumbles out of the Lifeboat anyway, and nearly toppled over when he hits the ground. Bracing himself on his thighs, he staggers forward a few feet before falling to his knees in the grass.

He hears Rufus mutter a low swear behind him, but neither of his companions make the effort to come near him. This is a relief, because Wyatt really doesn't want to be touched right now. He opens his mouth for what he thinks is a surge of sick, but all that comes up is a wet burp, and a splash of watery saliva.

His stomach clenches hard, and then jumps. It shoots straight to Wyatt’s throat, and before he can do much as catch his breath he vomits all over the grass. The first wave is mostly beer, liquid and foul-smelling as it runs past his lips and down his chin. It takes a deep gurgle from the back of his throat to bring up something more solid, and at once his dinner makes an unpleasant reappearance.

By the time he's done, his hands are soaked in sick as well. There is a puddle beneath him, and his chest as throat burn. He tries to curse, but all that comes out is a low groan.

“Wyatt?” It's Lucy’s voice, tentative and startled. Wyatt can't look back at her -- doesn't want to look back, and see them both staring at him with pity in their eyes. He doesn't need pity. When he feels Lucy’s hand glance over his shoulder, he shrugs her off.

“‘M fine,” he chokes out, rising to his feet. The way he sways and the hiccup that follows might disprove his words a bit, but no one needs to know. “Rough ride, is all.”

Rufus, apparently deciding to go along with that, nods. “Right. Happens to everyone.”

It definitely doesn't, and this definitely isn't something Wyatt wants to remember later. He really hopes Rufus hasn't switched on the recorder yet; the last thing he wants is for their Rittenhouse observers to think he has a weak stomach.

“Will you be okay?” asks Lucy, and Wyatt responds with a snort. He drags a hand over his mouth, brushing away excess sick there, before nodding.

“Yeah,” he retorts, “I'll be fine.”


End file.
